


It's Time To State Your Name (It's Time To Stake Your Claim)

by stubbornbones



Series: Gene Cole High School [1]
Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Amber is a Bitch and a half and we tolerate her for it, Gen, Graverobber is a little shit and we love him for it, Nathan and Marni mention, Shilo is an adorable little bug nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 20:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubbornbones/pseuds/stubbornbones
Summary: In which Shilo sees a cool bug, attempts to have a conversation with a purveyor of the Devil's Lettuce, and feels self-conscious





	It's Time To State Your Name (It's Time To Stake Your Claim)

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I'm a slut for high school AUs
> 
> I can't Plot to save my life so if you have any drabbles you want to see written in this universe let me know! (I don't write smut but anything else is fair game)
> 
> Title taken from 4 Yrs by Nina Nastasia (ask me my opinion on Nina if you want to hear me yell for eternity)

Of all the things that could excite a teenage girl, centipedes probably weren’t high on the list. Neither was dirt, but that didn’t stop the small thrill of excitement from zinging up Shilo’s spine as she knelt to inspect the insect before her more closely. Dark, bluish body. Little legs lined up like two rows of toy soldiers. Sluggish movements, but that could have been the cold. Probably a Scolopendrid centipede, one of the few Chilopoda species endemic to North America. The centipede waggled its antennae lazily, and Shilo made a mental note to bring a jar with her tomorrow for observation purposes.

The field lay adjacent to the high school, dingy grey buildings on one end and a cluster of shaggy trees on the other, a mangled chain link fence keeping absolutely no one out. Nathan had sent her on her way early today so the office could file the last of her ridiculously extensive paperwork before her first class started, but the patch of land was so gloriously weedy and earthy and untamed that she couldn’t resist a detour. She’d be sure to make it to the office before the first bell. Who could fault her tardiness if the administration worked slowly? She could always claim she’d gotten lost.

Shilo took a deep breath, savoring the chilly dampness of the air. She dug her (bare!) fingers into the dirt. The world was so much better when it wasn’t muffled by layers of cotton and latex and disinfectant (she’d peeled off her mask and latex gloves as soon as the house was out of sight and shoved them into her backpack). She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been outside without Nathan or one of the fosters hanging over her shoulder, fussing and worrying and carrying on like each breath and touch carried certain death. But the new medicine was working so _well_. Shilo was ready for people to stop treating her like some fragile doll and let her _live_ a little!

“Drop something, kid?”

Shilo jolted, a line of expletives crowding behind her teeth. Looking up from her inelegant sprawl, she saw that the speaker was not an adult, but a boy close to her age. His entire outfit, from the scuffed boots to the matted fur collar of his coat, looked as though it had been stolen from a thrift store that sold donations from other thrift stores. He wore two studded belts around his hips, a tangle of cords and chains around his neck, and an infuriating smirk on his face. His hair, Shilo noted with some envy, was long and thick, streaked with red and blue. Shilo’s own hair had never quite recovered from the rounds of chemo as a kid, and she had long since resigned herself to a life of wigs and headscarves.

“Kid?”

“Um.” The boy quirked an eyebrow, waiting for more. “I was just… looking. At something.”

“Mmm-hmm.” The boy nodded as though Shilo had offered some profound piece of wisdom. 

_Great job, Shilo. Fantastic. Off to a phenomenal start._ It figured, really. She finally got a chance to be normal, and she had already messed it up. Traded the “weird sick girl with a mask” image for “weird girl sitting in the dirt looking at bugs”. Shilo was thankful she wasn’t the blushing type, because she probably would have been a nuclear shade of red by now.

“You have a leaf in your hair.” Shilo started again. _Get out of your head, Wallace!_ Probably the worst thing she could do for the situation was to keep staring at this boy like some kind of idiot. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the way her muscles protested at the exertion. She finger-combed the tufts of plant out of her hair. Nathan had given her the new wig last night, a long, dark, silky thing that would have done Morticia Addams proud. Shilo had thanked him profusely and hugged him with all her might, pretending it was gratitude and not nerves that made her cling so tightly.

“Haven’t seen you around these parts before, kid. You new?” the boy asked.

“Um, yeah. I am. New.” Shilo stood a little straighter and lifter her chin, determined not to look like any more of a fool. “And stop calling me ‘kid’. I’m fourteen.”

“You got a name then, kid?”

“Shilo.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Shilo. Name’s Graves.” The boy stuck out a hand, and Shilo only hesitated a moment before taking it. His nails were coated in chipped black polish. The boy – Graves – grinned. “I’m probably still gonna call you kid, though.”

“Only if I can call you asshole,” Shilo shot back, impressed by her own boldness. Graves dropped Shilo’s hand and laughed.

“That’s fair. So, what brings you to the hallowed halls of Gene Cole High School?”

“Um, getting an education?”

“True, but where did you come from?”

“Oh. I was homeschooled.” Because of her chronic health problems, Shilo had spent most of her childhood bouncing between hospitals and the little white bedroom in her foster parents’ house. She’d hoped that being turned over to Nathan’s care would put an end to that, but it still took her over a year to convince her older brother to let her go to public school like a regular person. It almost hadn’t happened; the cold she’d caught in August had sent Nathan into a tailspin of worry. Shilo knew he meant well, but his overprotectiveness frustrated her. The cold hadn’t even veered down its usual path to bronchitis or pneumonia ( _thank you, immunoglobulin transfusions!_ ), but it had been enough for Nathan to delay her public education debut until all the coughs and sniffles had vanished. Now she was starting school a month late like some kind of weirdo.

“Yikes. I’d hate to be stuck in the same house every day.”

“Yeah, it kind of sucked. I’m glad it’s done.” Shilo resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air in victory. She was having a conversation! With someone her age! Like a normal person! Drawing up her courage, she ventured a question of her own. “So, uh… what are you doing out here?”

“Ah, this is my office!” Graves said, spreading his arms. Shilo furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Your… office?”

“Yup. I’m a salesman,” Graves added, seeing Shilo’s continued confusion.

“What do you sell?”

“Herbal relief.”

Would it kill him to be straightforward for once?

“Finally,” Graves muttered, his exuberance somewhat subdued. Shilo followed his gaze to a girl stomping towards them in what appeared to be a fur coat and stiletto heels. 

“Why the hell do you always drag me out to this fucking dirt heap, Graves?” the girl snarled as she drew nearer. Her hair was cut in a perfect silky bob, her nails filed into perfect claws, her lips painted into a perfect pout. Everything about her bearing screamed _I am better than you!_ and Shilo suddenly felt as insignificant as the centipede she’d been watching earlier.

“You wanna do business with me, you do it on my terms,” Graves replied coolly, but the girl wasn’t listening.

“Who the hell are you?” she sneered, looking down her perfect nose at Shilo. Shilo was struck dumb, trying and failing to keep her fingers from twisting the hem of her comparatively shabby skirt. Graves she could talk to; he was kind of weird and that made it safe for her to be kind of weird. But this flawless girl was hilariously, depressingly beyond the realm of Shilo’s experience. Before she could stammer out something stupid, Graves took a half step in front of her.

“Amber, don’t be rude to my assistant,” he said with just enough steel in his voice to show he was serious. “Are we doing this or not?” Amber kept her gaze on Shilo for another beat before turning back to Graves.

“You got the stuff?”

“Obviously.” Graves reached into his coat and pulled out a small, crumpled plastic bag filled with what looked like dried leaves. Amber slowly pulled an equally crumpled wad of bills out of her bra, and Graves rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the display. The bag and the money changed hands, and Shilo had to physically suppress a gasp as realization struck her. Amber stuffed the bag into her shirt, spared a dismissive glare for Shilo, and marched away without another word.

“God, she’s annoying,” Graves said as he counted the bills. Shilo had about ten thousand questions, but of course the most childish, naïve one burst out of her mouth first.

“Was that marijuana?!”

“Weed, pot, reefer, Mary Jane, the Devil’s Lettuce,” Graves added in agreement, pocketing the money. Shilo gaped at him.

“You can’t sell that here! That’s _illegal_! What if you get caught?!” She glanced furtively towards the school, half-expecting a horde of teachers and police officers to swarm out of the buildings and arrest them. Graves shrugged.

“Wasn’t caught yesterday, prob’ly won’t get caught tomorrow.” Shilo continued to stare, dumbfounded. How could he be so casual about the fact that he was selling drugs right next to school property? Where did he even get the drugs from in the first place? What business did a high school kid have selling drugs? What business did _other_ high school kids (at least she assumed; Amber could have easily passed for twenty) have buying drugs _from_ him? What—

“I am _not_ going to help you sell drugs!” There were lines that could be crossed – going outside without her mask, staying up just a little too late with her books and her flashlight, lying (just a little) to the nurses so they’d let her go home earlier – but this was not one of them. Nathan would never forgive her, especially not after what happened with his girlfriend, Marni, a couple years ago.

“Okay.”

“’ _Okay_ ’?!”

“Okay.” Graves looked at her with that damnable smirk. “Take a breath, kid, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” Shilo forced air in and out of her lungs, feeling her angry heartbeat subside a little. Okay. So the first person ever she meets as Normal Shilo turns out to be a drug peddler, and the second person looks at her like she’s roadkill. Okay. _Deep breaths, Shi, you can do this. Hell, you_ wanted _to do this. No more limitations._ A headache ghosted around the edges of her brain and she let her eyes slip shut for a moment. Her head snapped back up.

“Shit! What time is it?”

“’Bout ten after eight.”

“Shit!” she swore again. “I have to get to the office. I don’t even know where the office _is_!”

“No worries, kid, I’ll lead the way.” Graves hooked a lanky arm around her shoulders and started herding her towards campus. Shilo considered protesting but settled for a mumbled “Thanks, asshole”, which earned her another toothy grin. She tried to ignore how tall he was (how had she missed it before?), instead focusing on keeping her tights free of thistles. Before she knew it, Graves was opening a door and ushering her into a room that looked to be the sum average of every school office in existence.

“Fresh meat for ya, Ms. Adams!” he announced to a bespectacled woman bent over a large wooden desk.

“Go to class, Mr. Graves,” the woman said, not looking up from her papers. From the tiredness of her voice, Shilo guessed she had said the same thing to the same student many times before. With a final smile and a flamboyant little hand gesture, Graves backed out of the office and headed off to school buildings unknown.

Shilo sighed and handed her thick packet of paperwork to Ms. Adams. She had a feeling today was going to be a very long one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this hot mess!
> 
> Shilo has hypogammaglobulinemia, an immunodeficiency disorder in which the patient does not have enough immunoglobulins, which are critical components of the immune system. This makes them much more susceptible to nasty infections an illnesses. The treatment option I selected for Shilo is an immunoglobulin transfusion (delivered intravenously) every month to make up for what her body doesn't produce. This is a real treatment for the condition and she'll have to do it for her entire life. (I plan on talking more about Shilo's medication (and who's paying for it) in later works.)
> 
> (FYI I do not have this condition and, although I am a biologist, I am not a doctor, so if you know more about it than I do and notice any mistakes or inaccuracies, please let me know so I can fix them!)
> 
> I was considering making Graves' first name Rob or Robert for the sake of the glorious cheese, but it just didn't feel right. What can I say, the boy defies naming. So I made up for it by making the high school name a horrendous pun instead.
> 
> I'm basing Gene Cole High School (both the physical campus and the class scheduling) off of the American high school I went to because it's all I know, so if you have any questions about that lemme know. Shilo is a freshman.
> 
> (Please note that I also don't know the first damn thing about buying or selling weed because I was a Good and Innocent child so I don't plan on going into any sort of detail about Graves' business.)


End file.
